


Who's in Charge?

by avengersincamphalfbloodstardis



Series: Self Indulgent Crap [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, F/M, Face Slapping, Grinding, Lapdance, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengersincamphalfbloodstardis/pseuds/avengersincamphalfbloodstardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter tries to seduce you, you turn the tables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's in Charge?

You sigh as you scribble down your last thought.

You’d been working on this latest project all day (on a Saturday, you might add) and you had hit a wall.

Creative juices all tapped out, you sigh again and scrub a hand over your face.

You’d even gotten up early for this, taken a shower to wake up and thrown on some comfy clothes and gotten to work.

“C’mon darling,” a voice says from your bed. “Take a break.”

You look at your bed.

There’s Peter, laying on his side. He grins and waves you over.

“Peter, I’m busy,” you say.

“No you’re not,” he purrs. “You need a break, you’ve been working all day.”

“But I wanna get this done,” you whine.

“You’re already almost done,” he says, voice very convincing. “And you still have a week. Just for a little bit.” He drops his voice low. “C’mon darling. Come here.”

You’re tempted, you really are, but you want to get this done.

“Maybe later Peter,” you turn back to your work.

There’s a pause.

“Fine,” you can tell by his tone that he’s miffed. “I’ll just entertain myself.”

“You do that,” you say and pick your pen up.

You concentrate on your paper, willing any new ideas to come to you while Peter grumbles to himself behind you.

You can tell that he’s touching himself, though there hasn’t been any sound of a zipper, so he must be doing it over his clothes.

Sure enough, when you peek at him, he’s palming himself over his jeans.

“Oh Peter,” you say fondly.

He groans. “Come here.”

You stand, project forgotten and leap onto the bed, straddling his hips.

You grind down and he groans, pushing up against you.

You bounce slightly and grin when he whines.

Suddenly, that inspiration you’d just been praying for hits you.

“Think I can make you come just like this?” you ask. “Just from grinding down on your cock? Make you come in your pants like a schoolboy?”

“You wouldn’t,” he growls.

“Wouldn’t I?” you raise an eyebrow. “Maybe I like this. Like you underneath me, coming apart from a _lapdance_.”

“Please,” he whimpers and his hips stutter.

“Please what?” you smile wickedly.

“Please let me fuck you.” His hands go to his belt, but you swat them away.

“Ah, ah, ah, Peter.” You press down harder, the denim creating a delicious friction against your clit. “Only naughty boys try to touch themselves when someone is trying to make them feel good. Are you a naughty boy?”

“Fuck you,” he spits.

You draw back your hand and slap him, hard.

As he draws in a gasp, you drop your weight onto him, pressing so hard against his cock it has to be painful.

“Oh, you are a naughty boy,” you grin. “But you just wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?”  
You lean down and press your lips to the shell of his ear. “But I’m in charge right now. And I’m much more interested in how long you can last when somebody takes control of you.”

“I don’t have to let you do this,” Peter hisses. “You think you’re in charge? I could take control at any moment. Just grab you and fuck you. You have nothing, no control, no leverage. Nothing.”

You smirk at the reddening mark on his cheek, matching your handprint.

“Oh yeah?” you say. “Bet it wouldn’t be much fun if I don’t want it.”

“I don’t need you to want it, sweetheart,” he says, baring his teeth.

“Don’t you?” you brace your hands on his chest. “What happens when you push me down and ask me what I call you? What happens when I don’t scream out ‘Daddy?’ What happens when I don’t beg for Daddy’s cock? How’re you gonna get your rocks off then?”

“You’d beg,” Peter whispers, though doubt creeps into his voice. “You’d beg me and if you’re lucky, I’d give it to you.”

You shake your head and chuckle. “I wouldn’t.”

“You wou-”

You cut him off by planting your hands on his wrists and pinning him down. “I wouldn’t.” you bare your teeth. “I’d sit there and do _nothing_. I wouldn’t move, I wouldn’t speak. I wouldn’t let you get any pleasure.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “But... but...”

“But? But?” You tilt your head mockingly. “But what, Peter?”

“Please,” he whines.

“That’s right, Peter,” you smile. “You know who’s in charge. Say it. Tell me who’s in charge.”

He closes his eyes and cries, little whimpers spilling over his lips.

You slap him again. “Say it.”

“You,” he sobs. “You, you’re in charge, you, you, you-”

With one last sinful roll of your hips, he’s coming, fingernails digging into your thighs. You hiss at the delicious sting of pain.

“That’s right, Peter,” you smile wickedly as he catches his breath, the mark on his cheek glowing red. “I’m in charge.”


End file.
